


i"ll see you when the violence ends (for now ciao, ciao bambino)

by paperback92



Series: Iron Dad Bingo [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, Gratuitous platonic forehead kisses, Iron Dad, Iron Man Bingo 2019, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 22:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperback92/pseuds/paperback92
Summary: On Wednesday afternoon, Peter works in the lab with Mr. Stark.On Thursday morning, he's following a wizard into space.On Thursday afternoon, Peter dies in Mr. Stark's arms.(Iron Dad Bingo 2019 prompt: "I thought I lost you.")





	i"ll see you when the violence ends (for now ciao, ciao bambino)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Endgame fix-it and first Iron Dad Bingo space all in one too long one shot! 
> 
> Enjoy!

On Wednesday afternoons, Peter works in the lab with Mr. Stark. 

He doesn’t get much work done this afternoon though. He mostly spends his time dodging the hand that will occasionally dart out to tug on his curls. 

Mr. Stark claims that it’s an experiment to test his spidey sense, but Peter knows that it’s really because he’s overdue for a haircut and the humidity outside has kinked it up into a curly fizzy mess, and Mr. Stark apparently has nothing better else to do then tease him. 

Within the past two years of knowing each other, Peter’s spidey sense has long realized that Mr. Stark is no threat, so it says nothing when he’s districted, too busy concentrating on the busted web shooter in front of him, to notice the man walking past. He gets no warning until Mr. Stark yanks on a curl and then gets snagged on it. 

“Ow, Mr. Stark!” Peter complains while Mr. Stark untangles his finger with a guilty smile. Peter shakes his head and runs his own fingers through the overgrown mop, checking for anymore knots. Judging by the look on Mr. Stark’s face, he does nothing but make it more poofy. He sticks his tongue out at the older man. 

“Sorry kid.” Mr. Stark chuckles. “I’ll leave you alone and let you work.” 

“You don’t have to leave me alone.” Peter tells him. “Just my hair. Let it live in peace.” 

“Fine, fine.” Mr. Stark says like it’s the worst request in the world and he’s put out by it. The smirk on his face though, while he sits by Peter and gets to work on his own project, betrays him. 

*** 

On a Thursday morning, Peter follows a wizard into space. 

Mr. Stark is in his ear telling him to let go. That he’ll catch him. Peter believes him but he can’t let go. His fingers aren’t working like they should. 

He’s a little scared. (He’d rather not go to space today, thank you. He has a chem test in the morning.) 

He’s a little ashamed. (He can’t stop thinking about how he failed the one job Mr. Stark gave him.) 

He’s a lot lightheaded. (He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. _He can’t breathe_.) 

Mr. Stark is still in his ear. He sounds calm but Peter knows he’s scared. Sometimes, when Mr. Stark’s scared enough his voice goes all calm like that. Like he’s trying to convince him that everything is under control. 

Peter eventually let’s go of the spaceship but it’s only when his vision goes black. Mr. Stark catches him though, just like he promised, and Peter wakes up in a brand-new suit. 

Mr. Stark tries to send him home, but the thought of his mentor going alone to the one place he fears the most, makes Peter stick again to the side of the ship. 

He’ll be in huge trouble. Mr. Stark may even hate him for purposely putting himself in danger like this, but at least he isn’t heading towards his worst nightmare alone. 

*** 

On a Thursday afternoon, Peter dies in Mr. Stark’s arms. 

Peter’s thought about his own death before. It might be morbid, but death has been following him around since he was six and his parents got a plane and never came back home. And then when Uncle Ben never came home from that 7-11. It leans over his shoulder every time he flings himself off a skyscraper and faces criminals every night. 

He always imagined that he’d be brave when it happened. He thought that’d it be peaceful, a little like falling asleep. 

That’s not what happens on Titan. 

He doesn’t go quietly. He cries and sobs like a little kid. He doesn’t mean to; he wants to be brave, but it’s all happening so fast that he isn’t even sure what’s happening. 

He’s hot all over and achy. Is he sick? Or is he turning to dust like the others? 

Peter stumbles forward towards the only source of comfort he has on this stupid planet and Mr. Stark catches him. He holds him and buries his hand in the matted curls that he was teasing Peter about the other day. He doesn’t let go even when they fall to the ground. 

This isn’t how this was supposed to go. 

Peter looks up at Mr. Stark and apologizes. He’s not entirely sure what he’s sorry for. For not listening and coming to space? For not getting the gauntlet off in time? For dying? 

Apologizing feels right though, like it's something he needs to say. 

Peter just barely can say it before he drifts away. 

*** 

On a Friday morning, Peter blinks awake. 

He thinks it’s Friday, anyway. Or maybe it’s still Thursday? He’s not sure. All he knows is that his head is pounding, and he feels awful. 

He’s still on Titan, but he can’t find Mr. Stark. Dr. Strange is there though. He rushes Peter to his unsteady feet and is saying something about how it’s been five years and they’ve got to go help them now, right now. 

Peter barely gets the chance to catch his breath, let alone process that info bomb, but apparently the fight isn’t over so he tries to get his head on straight. 

Dr. Strange does his yellow sparkly magic and opens a portal to a battlefield. Peter spies a smoking ‘A’ and his heart sinks with the realization of where they are. It’s the Avengers compound, but it looks like it’s been bombed. There’s nothing left but scorched earth and twisted metal. 

There’s an army waiting. But they have an army too and Peter doesn’t hesitate to leap into action when Captain America orders them to assemble. 

He saves Mr. Stark from the huge alien’s hammer for the second time in just as many days. 

Peter’s so happy to see him he can’t help but ramble. Mostly because if anyone can explain what’s going on, it’s Mr. Stark. So, Peter rushes to tell him everything because he knows that Mr. Stark likes to have all the facts on these kinds of things. And, in the past, his little tirades were always broken up by the odd quip, teasing, or stray observation from Mr. Stark. But now the man stays quiet. Peter’s honestly not even sure if he’s listening. Mr. Stark is just staring at him really weirdly. 

“What’s that gray stuff in your hair?” Peter asks suddenly, surprising himself. He hadn’t meant to say that; he’d just noticed it but now it’s all he can see. He’s pretty sure Mr. Stark’s hair didn’t look like that yesterday. 

_It’s been five years._

“It’s just gray hair.” Mr. Stark says, and he sounds weird too, like he’s a little out of breath. 

“Oh, sorry.” Peter says, feeling a little stupid, and a lot confused. 

He goes to finish his story but Mr. Stark tugs him into a hug before he can. It takes Peter by surprise. Mr. Stark isn’t much of a hugger but you wouldn’t know it based on how tightly he’s holding Peter right now. Peter hugs back just as tightly. 

“This is nice.” He whispers. It’s really the only nice thing that’s happened to him since he jumped out of that bus. 

Mr. Stark breathes out a laugh. Then, to Peter’s shock, he presses a kiss to his cheek, firm and gentle. He squeezes Peter one last time before letting go. 

Peter misses the contact as soon as he steps back but he understands. They have a fight to finish. There’ll be plenty of time for that after they win. 

He catches Mr. Stark looking at him weird again, like Peter’s done something amazing by just existing. He shakes his head a little when he realizes that he’s been caught and sniffs. 

“Alright, Spider-Man.” He says. “Let’s go save the universe.” 

*** 

Peter doesn’t know what day it really is. He doesn’t even know what year it is anymore. 

None of that matters now. 

“We did it, Mr. Stark. We won.” Mr. Stark just sits there, eyes empty and staring at nothing. “You did it, sir. You did it.” 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch when Peter reaches out to him and that’s how Peter knows it’s bad. Mr. Stark is a lot of things but he’s never still. He’s always in motion, body and mind. This isn’t the Tony Stark Peter knows, and it guts him. 

“Please, Tony. No.” Peter begs, the first sob escaping him. “I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t even try to hold back his tears when Pepper gently pulls him away and hands him over to Rhodey. 

“It’s okay, Tony.” He hears Pepper say, and he wants to scream. This isn’t okay. None of this is okay. “It’s okay, you can-” 

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Dr. Strange interrupts unexpectedly, stepping out of portal, Captain America right behind him. 

“We have to hurry.” He says as Captain America lifts Mr. Starks limp burnt body into his arms. “We don’t have much time.” 

*** 

Peter still doesn’t know what day or year it is. 

All he knows is that he’s Wakanda. They could have a different calendar year for all he knows. 

What he knows is that he’s never traveling by portals again. 

He’s only done it a couple times but so far, they’ve only taken him to only bad things. Like getting beaten up by Thanos. Or the smoking husk of the compound. And now a Wakandan waiting room. 

In reality, the waiting room is the best place he could be because it means that Mr. Stark has a fighting chance. And he and everyone else in this room is beyond grateful for that chance because without it Mr. Stark would be dead. 

The bad part is the waiting. It’s been three hours since they rushed Mr. Stark into surgery. Peter hit his adrenaline crash an hour ago. He feels like he’s going out of his mind. 

His hands shake and he feels sick as he listens to Dr. Strange talk to the room, filling everyone in. He tells them how that everyone Thanos had dusted has been dead for five years. Captain America solemnly confirms it. 

Peter wonders if Aunt May was one of them. He doesn’t have his phone to even call and check on her. 

His nausea ramps up. He was dead for five years. Five years of his life, gone, just like that. With a snap of a finger. He can’t wrap his mind around it. His head swims and he can’t stop seeing Mr. Stark’s empty eyes. 

The sound of chair legs screeching across the floor echoes loudly around the room and it takes Peter a moment to realize that he the cause of it. All eyes are on him. He stands, chest heaving but not taking in any air. Dr. Strange and Captain America turn to him like they’re expecting him to say something. 

“I-” Peter swallows thickly. His stomach churns and he feels like he’s going to puke. “I-I can’t-I gotta-” 

He runs from the room and stumbles out into the hallway. He makes it only a few feet before his knees give out. He throws a hand up onto the wall and his powers making his hand stick are the only thing that keeps him somewhat upright. His legs crumple underneath him but the hand that wraps around his elbow saves him from hitting the floor. 

Captain America eases him to the floor. He settles Peter against the wall and pushes a small trash can in between his legs. Peter wastes no time heaving into it. 

Nothing comes up though. There’s nothing in his stomach, because until four hours ago, he was dead. His body doesn’t seem to understand that because his stomach still cramps and twists and turns, trying to bring something up. 

“Easy, Queens.” Cap soothes between gags and once again when Peter finally stops long enough to breathe again. He’s afraid if he opens his mouth, he’ll start up again so he just nods instead and leans his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes. The world spins around him and he floats away in the darkness. 

He’s not sure how long he drifts for before a cold, dry hand presses up against his forehead. He flinches away, and the hand settles onto his shoulder instead. 

“Is he alright?” A voice that’s not Captain America asks above him and Peter cracks open an eye to see the Winter Soldier staring down at him. 

He’s in sweatpants and a tee shirt. His long hair is pulled back into a wet bun. It’s one of the most surreal things Peter has ever seen, and that’s saying something. He decides that he’s not in the right frame of mind to handle this and shuts his eyes again. 

“He doesn’t look too good.” 

“It’s delayed shock, I think.” Cap answers. He pats Peter’s shoulder again. “Would you go ask T’Challa if we can borrow a suite? He needs to lie down.” 

“You can use mine.” The Winter Soldier offers and Cap breathes a little sigh of relief. 

“Thanks, Buck.” Peter feels Cap shift and when he opens his eyes, he’s kneeling in front of Peter. “What’s your name, Queens?” 

“Peter.” He mumbles, still feeling sick. 

“Hi, Peter.” Cap smiles at him. “Can I help you up?” 

He nods and then is quickly lifted onto his feet. The hallway spins dangerously around him and he tilts with it. Cap’s grip on him tightens, and he shifts again, taking on most of Peter’s weight. 

Cap leads him to what looks like an apartment. He settles Peter on the couch with strict instructions to get some rest while he gets him something to eat. He uses his PSA voice and everything. 

Joke’s on him, Peter thinks dizzily as he tips his head back onto the cushions. He’s been immune to the “Captain America” voice since fifth grade. He stays put but only because he seriously doubts that he could get up under his own power. 

The Winter Soldier walks is just as Cap is pressing a grilled cheese and apple juice into Peter’s still shaking hands. Hawkeye, Thor, and weird looking Hulk invite themselves in not too long after. Soon tons of heroes, some Peter knows and some he’s doesn’t, filter in and out asking for updates on Mr. Stark. 

A few people come up and speak to him but Peter doesn’t reply with much over one- or two-word answers. He really doesn’t feel like talking. He doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s just so tired. 

Cap comes over after a while and drapes a blanket over him as a pointed hint, but Peter doesn’t sleep. He wants- no needs- to be awake and alert. He doesn’t want to miss any updates on Mr. Stark. 

Just as he starts to think that they’ll never hear anything, Happy bursts into the room, like it’s a drug bust. All eyes are on him now but Happy ignores them. “Where’s the kid?” He demands as if Peter’s a hostage or something. 

Peter goes to answer, but it suddenly stopped short of the sight of the little girl who’s perched on Happy’s hip. 

Peter hasn’t officially been told about Morgan Stark’s existence. He doesn’t think they kept it from him on purpose or that she’s some kind of big red secret. He truly thinks it hadn’t been a priority, considering the current circumstances and he thinks that everyone just kind of forgot to tell him. 

He only found out because he overheard the hushed conversations around him. Overheard the quiet concerned voices asking if she was all right, how she was coping. He saw the photo of a smiling, dark-haired little girl sandwiched between her mom and dad on Pepper’s phone when she pulled him into a hug earlier right after they took Mr. Stark into surgery. 

Morgan Stark is the ultimate proof that it really has been five years. Because Peter’s pretty sure that he would have noticed if Mr. Stark had a daughter before. And there’s no doubt that that little girl is Tony Stark and Pepper Potts’s daughter. She looks just like Mr. Stark, down the same dark hair and sharp intelligent eyes. 

Those eyes narrow in on Peter now and he has to suppress a shiver because he’s seen that same intense CEO stare from Pepper before. 

She spots him before Happy does and wiggles out from his hold, running over to Peter. She launches herself up onto the couch beside him and looks him up and down, examining him. Peter tries hard not to squirm underneath her gaze. He must pass some kind of test though because suddenly smiles up at him. 

“You’re my favorite superhero!” She exclaims, folding her tiny fingers into her equally tiny palm on hands pointing them at him. It takes her making tiny ‘ _thwip thwip_ ’ sounds for Peter to clue in that she’s talking about him. She pokes at the spider emblem in the middle of his chest. “Second to Iron Man, of course.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Peter agrees weakly. He’s honestly not sure of what else to say. His brain is beyond fired at this point. The whole thing is overwhelming. 

When Peter started the day: it was 2018. He was a junior and Mr. Stark didn’t have kids, that he knew of. Now, somehow: It’s 2023. Peter’s been dead and Mr. Stark has a wife, kid, and a whole life that doesn’t include Peter. 

It’s all too much. His head hurts. His whole body aches. It feels like someone is squeezing his heart too tight. 

He feels like he’s on the verge of a complete, utter breakdown. 

Morgan doesn’t notice, she’s too busy babbling away to notice that he’s having a crisis, but the adults don’t miss it. Happy and Cap walk over and Cap hovers like a mother hen while Happy scoops Morgan back into his arms. 

“You can’t just bombard people like that, little miss.” Happy lightly chastises. “Give him some space.” 

Morgan pouts and it’s easily the cutest thing Peter’s ever seen.“But daddy said that he’s my big brother. That means it’s his job to listen to my stories.” 

Something deep inside Peter snaps. But not in a breaking sort of way. No, it’s more like something snaps into place. Like something clicks in Peter’s scrambled brain. 

That’s Mr. Stark’s daughter. 

And, yeah, okay, he already knew that, but in that moment it really hits home. 

That’s Mr. Stark’s daughter. His baby. And she _knows_ Peter. She called him her big brother. Peter has been _dead_ for five years, her entire life, but Mr. Stark told her about him. He included him. 

The wave of emotion that crashes over him steals his breath. It’s love, but fierce and more protective that anything he’s ever felt before. Peter knows, right then and there, that he’d do anything for Morgan Stark. 

Peter reaches back for her. “It’s alright.” He tells Happy. He sounds horrible, like his vocal cords have been through a wood chipper. Even Happy and Cap wince at it. He briefly remembers getting choked out by Thanos but quickly shakes the memory away. 

Happy doesn’t so much as hand Morgan over as she throws herself at Peter when she decides that Happy isn’t moving quick enough. She wraps around Peter and buries her little face into his neck. 

“I’m glad you came back to meet me.” She whispers and Peter loses it. 

Tears fill up his eyes, hot and fast, and he doesn’t even attempt to stop them. Wiping them away would mean letting go of Morgan and he refuses to do that. So, he just stares up at the ceiling and lets them silently fall. They steadily drip down his face and into Morgan’s hair, until a calloused hand swipes some away. Peter blinks up at Happy as he steps into his line of vision. 

“Yeah, that’s how I acted the first time I held her too.” He says gruffly, like he’s holding back tears of his own. “Hey, kid.” 

“Hey, Happy.” Peter sniffles. 

“I’ve got some good news.” Happy says, ruffling Peter’s matted hair before just resting his hand on top of it. “I’ve talked to May. She’s on her way right now. She sends her love.” 

Peter nods, still sniffling. Just knowing that May is all right and that he’ll see her soon takes a huge weight off of him. 

“And Boss is out of surgery. The doctors say that he’s doing great. He’s down an arm but other than that, he’ll be back home in no time.” 

With no warning, Peter busts into full-blown, relieved sobs. He guessed he didn’t realize how worried he’d been that Mr. Stark wouldn’t pull through. His sobs are too loud in the now quiet room but Peter can’t stop. 

God, he really is a mess. 

“Do you want to go see him?” Happy asks over the sounds of Peter’s meltdown and Peter nods so quickly that he almost gives himself whiplash. Happy goes to take Morgan but the little girl holds onto Peter tighter, so he just heaves the both of them up off the couch and follows Happy out. 

She doesn’t let go until they get outside of Mr. Stark’s room. Then she abandons him as soon as she sees Pepper, who’s waiting for them along with Rhodey. Pepper holds her close for a moment then pulls Peter into their embrace. She kisses Morgan’s forehead then presses one against Peter’s temple. 

“Dad will be fine.” Pepper says, her eyes shining. The wording makes it seems like the message is for Morgan but Pepper makes eye contact with Peter too. “He’s just really tired right now, so we have to be gentle and quiet. Ok?” 

Morgan nods solemnly then elbows Peter to do the same. He does and doesn’t miss the smile that all three adults share. Rhodey opens the door and they all step in together, but Peter stops at the doorway, frozen. 

His breath catches in happiness? Relief? Peter’s not sure. All he knows is this is a vast improvement over the last time he saw Mr. Stark. So much so that Peter wonders if that was even Mr. Stark out on that battlefield. 

Life sparks in his eyes as he reaches out for his daughter. He looks so much better, it’s amazing. The left side of his face is still eaten up with burns but they look several days old now instead of just hours. His left arm has been replaced with a sleek looking red and gold prosthetic. 

Peter watches as Morgan crawls up the bed towards her dada until they’re nose to nose. She smacks both her palms against his cheeks, as gently as a four-year-old can manage, Peter guesses, and frames his face. Mr. Stark beams at her. 

“Hey, Morgana.” He greets her causally, like he’s just come back from buying groceries and not death’s door. He uses his flesh hand to brush away some stray baby hair from her face. “Miss me?” 

“Three thousand.” She answers and, Peter doesn’t get it, but the adults absolute melt around him. They all give watery laughs. It must be an inside joke he’s missed out on. 

The bitterness that come with the thought, is unexpected and chokes him. This is a happy moment, one he’s been praying for since he got to Wakanda, and he doesn’t want to ruin it with his bad attitude. He blinks back the tears that have cropped up again and tries to discreetly back out of the open door. But just as he thinks he’s home free, Mr. Stark calls out to him. 

“Pete?” Even his voice sounds so much better. It’s still weak, but it’s no longer the dying rasp that had gasped out his wife’s name. 

Sobs rip through Peter before he can stop them. He tries to smother them, covering his face with his hands, but he can’t stop. His whole-body shakes with the effort. He’s still self-aware enough to be embarrassed though. This is his second breakdown of the day. The literal child in the room is handing the situation better than he is. 

He just stands there crying like a baby until hands land on his shoulders and gently lead him away. He assumes that he’s being taken out of the room until his knees knock against the metal frame of Mr. Stark’s hospital bed. The hands that brought he here, give him an encouraging pat on the head and 

Peter hears everyone file out of the room, leaving him and Mr. Stark alone. 

“Peter?” He hears Mr. Stark say over his blubbering. “Think you could move your hands for me, bud? I really want to see those big ole Bambi eyes of yours. Especially considering I figured out time travel to see them again.” 

He knows that Mr. Stark is trying to lighten the mood, trying to get Peter to laugh instead of having continuous meltdowns, but Peter’s brain gets tripped up on the fact that Mr. Stark just said that he figured out time travel for him and he keeps wailing instead. 

“Oh, Pete.” Mr. Stark blows out a breath. “Ok, alright. You’re okay, bud. Come here.” 

He tugs at Peter’s shoulders until he gets the hint and climbs up onto the bed. Once he’s up there, Peter wastes no time curling around his mentor. He clings to Mr. Stark just as tightly as Morgan had to him. Mr. Stark’s arms circle around him, his flesh one curling in his hair and the metal one cold against the back of his neck. 

“I thought I lost you.” Peter hiccups and Mr. Stark’s chest hitches underneath him. He rocks them back and forth. 

“I know, bud. I’m sorry.” Mr. Stark soothes. “I’m here now though. We’re okay. Everything is okay.” 

They sit huddled together, swaying in silence for a while. Peter breaks the silence a few minutes later when he whispers the one thing that’s been eating at him since he woke on Titan to Mr. Stark missing and Dr. Strange yelling instructions. 

“I was dead.” 

Saying it out loud doesn’t make Peter feel any better like he thought it would. There’s no rushing epiphany that comes to him or even the denial from Mr. Stark that he’d been secretly wishing for. 

“It’s alright.” Is the only thing that Mr. Stark says after a long moment. He sounds confident though. Confident and sure in a way that Peter doesn’t think he could ever be. He sounds every bit the hero that Peter’s looked up almost his whole life. “We’re both here now and that’s all that matters. We’ll figure out the semantics later.” 

Peter isn’t sure, but he decides to trusts Mr. Stark anyway. 

*** 

On a Saturday morning, Peter attends the Black Widow’s funeral. 

He watches as Cap lowers down a decorated wreath into the lake. It’s full of photos, parting gifts from her fans and her found family, her widow bites, and a bundle of fan mail from the countless of people she’d saved throughout the years. 

Peter never met her properly, Mr. Stark said that Germany didn’t count, but he stands out on the dock of the lake house with the other Avengers and pays his respects. She made the ultimate sacrifice to give him the chance to be here, and he thanks her for it. 

(Peter’s spider drone sits by her widow bites. Mr. Stark had insisted. 

“You’re a good kid, Pete.” Mr. Stark had sniffed when Peter had asked if they could include it. “She would have loved you.”) 

The water accepts their tribute and the mourners slowly drift away. 

A little while later, Mr. Stark finds him sitting alone at a picnic table picking at the wood. 

“What’s wrong, Pete?” 

Peter’s stomach twists with guilt. It should be the other way around; him checking on Mr. Stark. They’re at his friend’s funeral. It’s Mr. Stark, not Peter, who grimaces as he gently lowers himself onto the seat beside Peter because his burns still bother him some days. 

“Nothing.” Peter finally says after a moment. A piece of table gives underneath his finger nail. “Just tired.” 

It’s not a complete lie. He is tired. He doesn’t think he’s had a full night’s rest since he’s been back. Mr. Stark invited him and May to stay with them during the summer and he’s hoping it’ll help. 

The thing is, adjusting to everything has been harder than what he thought it’d be. It seems like the universe is still reeling. It’s struggling to find a place for half the population that it’d mourned and moved on from. 

Half of his classmates are in college. He’s lucky that he still has Ned and MJ to navigate what’s sure to be the weirdest senior year ever, but he can’t help the twinge of bitterness that jumps in his throat when he scrolls through Instagram and sees the life he could have been living. 

Peter knows that he should just be grateful that he’s alive. He’s owns everything to Mr. Stark and to the Avengers. He should be happy. 

So why does he feel so lost? Why can’t he sleep? Why does he get so angry sometimes for no reason? 

Mr. Stark just narrows his eyes at him, no doubt easily seeing right through him, but thankfully says nothing. Instead, he wraps his good arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulls him close. He presses their heads together and they just breath for a moment. 

“I love you, Pete.” 

Somehow, Peter’s able push past the lump that’s lodged itself in his throat to say: 

“I love you too, Mr. Stark. 

*** 

On a Saturday afternoon, after Peter dies and then comes back to life, Mr. Stark tells Peter that he loves him for the first time and Peter lets himself believe that things may turn out all right.

**Author's Note:**

> So, Endgame sure was...a movie, huh?
> 
> *long tired sigh*
> 
> P.S. I know I've said this with every new story I've posted since October but for anyone following Four Trimesters:  
> I swear to God, I haven't abandoned it. I promise I haven't. I got a bit burnt out and stuck with some parts. It's my baby and I'm not giving up on it. It's just not my main focus at the moment.
> 
>  
> 
> Come visit me on [ tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/awwcoffee92) <3


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